Mocking words, broken man
by vodooman
Summary: Crossover with smallville. Short summary: It echoed inside of him. Repeated. Mocked. Over and over again. warnings: mention of character death. Peter/Chloe, Sylar, Clark
1. Chapter 1

Title: **Mocking words, broken man**

Fandom: Smallville/Heroes crossover

Author: boredlittlestudent/ vodooman

Rating: pg-13 (to be save)

Genre: loss, hurt, angsty, crossover

Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Peter, Sylar, Clark

Short summary: _It echoed inside of him. Repeated. Mocked. Over and over again_.

Any warnings: Yes, mention of character death.

Disclaimer: Smallville and Heroes as well as its characters are not mine. I only write fanfiction for entertainment.

A/N: Written for the all_unwritten community. Prompt # 540: Wedding pictures.

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The living room was trashed. All the furniture destroyed. And yet he wasn't finished. He was still angry… Wanted to destroy more, wanted to hear the crack of things he used to share with her. Used to enjoy with her.

Sylar's voice was mocking him inside his head "What's the use of being a hero, when you can't even save her?"

It echoed inside of him. Repeated. Mocked. Over and over again.

He uses his powers to propel the bookcase to the other side of the room. Books fly every where. And then just like another mocking sign, their photo album falls before his feet. His memories with her. Their first date, their engagement party, their wedding pictures.

All those memories. Pictures taken, freezing a scene and redrawing it on a piece of paper.

He fell to his knees, in front of the opened album. She was staring back at him from the glossy picture, with a huge smile and sparkling eyes. A sob escaped him, because all he could see was her horrified face when realisation hit that she would die. That she'd die and that he couldn't help her.

His body shook with the force of his sobs. Shattering him. Numbing him. He saw her body ly infront of him. Broken. Dead. And he couldn't do anything. Couldn't save her. But her face was still smiling back at him from the floor. Increasing his guilt. Shattering him even more.

"Chloe…"

He only stopped to cry when Clark came, suddenly appeared in front of him, and told him that he needed to be strong and to listen to him.

**Please comment…**


	2. Chapter 2

I would like to thank **katie farmer** for taking the time to review the chapter… and I hope you like this short chapter too… And I hope anyone else reading this will like it as well… *chu*

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He hadn't heard him the first two times when Clark explained to him why they were driving out to his home. To the barn. A few stray words were caught, like 'sleeping' and 'meteor infected', but they were meaningless for him.

The car was wrapped in silence. Clark was driving while Peter looked out the window.

His head rested against the car window. The glass was cold but didn't help his throbbing headache. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the green of grass, the landscape, so alive, but as soon as he did the image of Chloe's broken body was there in front of him. And he could hear Sylar's voice, mocking him. Taunting him, torturing him by repeating all over again what he already knew.

She was dead, he didn't save her; for all of his superpowers, he couldn't save her. He was her hero, but her hero couldn't even save the woman he loved.

He buried his face in his hands. Trying to hide from the image of a dead Chloe, trying to hide from Sylar's voice. He stayed like this until Clarks hand came resting on his shoulder. Pulling him out of his tortured world of self loath and guilt; bringing him back to the real world.

Only then did Peter notice that Clark had stopped the car, that they were there on the Kent Farm, and that the car had stopped in front of the barn.

Clark was talking again, but Peter wasn't listening, couldn't hear anything besides the pulsating, rushing sound that disturbed his hearing. His pulse. His gaze rested on the Kent barn. On the place that Clark had taken the dead body of his wife. The only woman he had ever truly loved after Simone. And then suddenly a rage filled him. How dare Clark Kent steal the body of his wife. How dare he take her, and lay her in his bed, while he, Peter, wasn't even able to touch, to kiss her ever again.

He started shouting at Clark. His own outraged, screaming voice was muffled to his ears. He flung his hand at him without thinking and watched Clark fly out of the car, watched the car door being ripped away like a paper box lid being easily torn away from the box.

Somehow he had gotten out of the car, didn't really know how, and didn't really care either. He was flinging his hand again, and watched with satisfaction as Clark was propelled into the air again, until he landed into a tree trunk and shattered it with his back.

With a sudden jerk Peter came out of his rage. What had he done? Why had he suddenly given in to the rage that was inside of him? But it didn't matter, because he turned to the barn and made his way toward it. He needed to be with Chloe now. Needed to stay with the dead body of his wife. He just wanted to touch her one last time, to kiss the forehead lovingly like he always did to wake her in the mornings and to see her sleep one last time.

He needed to say good bye to the woman that meant more than the world to him. And so he left without sparing Clark Kent another glance.

**Please leave a comment or review… and tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

_This chapter and the one shot 'tree' is both dedicated to _Call Me Lor. _I know it was a long wait until the next chapter… but I never forgot about it… I just didn't quite know how to continue… thank you for being so patient!_

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Walking from outside into the barn was like going from one country to the next. The outside world was green, the birds chirped and sang loudly and the light was white, pure and warming while a soft breeze cooled everything it touched.

The barn was warm and stuffy. The sun had somehow made it into the closed barn, casting a yellowish- dark toned atmosphere.

Peter, upon entering, didn't look around and went straight for the stairs. He knew there was only one place that she could be. Knowing Clark and his obvious crush on his wife, he was sure he would find her laid carefully and softly on Clark's bed. He took the stairs one at a time, not trusting the adrenaline rush still in his system to delivering him safely upstairs. Halfway on the staircase Peter actually remembered his ability to fly.

He concentrated and softly drifted toward the top floor. His head started to float from the still present adrenaline levels. When his feet touched the top floor, reality sank in. Peter swallowed the lump that had formed upon seeing the still form on the couch.

Clark had laid her onto his couch. Her hands were placed at her side, and her body rested, and looked like she was relaxing. But Peter knew that it wasn't so. Chloe, his Chloe, was dead. She wasn't sleeping, hadn't fallen asleep on the couch after a hard days work. She was dead, and she would never awake.

His eyes began to burn, he felt his throat coat and his heart accelerated. Every step he took closer to her was killing him a little more. Every step he took, would bring him closer to the dead and cold body of his wife. A body that was lifeless now, and that would never move again. A defeating and shattering silence engulfed the room and was only disturbed by the noise of his slow and determined steps.

When he finally had made his way to the couch, he took a moment to study her. She looked as beautiful as always. A little paler then she usually was, but her body looked just the way it had in the morning when he said his goodbye and kissed her. He had gone off to see his brother, not knowing that this would be the last time that he'd see her alive, full of life.

Even in this Sylar had mocked him. He hadn't broken and killed her, instead he had left her body almost unharmed, except for a dark and angry mark along her throat. He knew that in time his present thoughts would one day make him go insane. Sylar hadn't so much as harmed a hair on her body, he had only killed her. Killed her, just because it was the easiest way to get to him. To break him… She had died, because of him. And there was nothing he could ever do to fix this. Not then with Simon, or now with her.

All of his emotions came crashing down on him. And as they pulled and tugged him lower, crushing him under their weight, he bend, and then laid his head softly on her stomach. Afraid that he could hurt her, if he pressed to hard down on her, afraid that her body would fall apart and that he would loose even that now.


	4. AN

Dear readers, dear friends

It has finally happened. My real life and my writing/virtual i-life have clashed, and I can't get out of it. Therefore I decided to go hiatus with my writing.

My personal journal will still be up but only for those on my f-list. My fan fic archive/writing comm will stay up. For my fanfic net account, I really haven't decided yet. But it will probably stay put for the time being, until i have time to put everything down.

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you all that. And that I won't really add new friends until I write again, except in very rare cases I might...

Thank you all for your attention, and don't worry, this isn't good bye, it's "Auf wiedersehen!" Because I will certainly still be around to comment on my friends journals and good fan fics.


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